


The Ocean Washed Over Our Graves

by lucidliving



Series: The Many Lifetimes of Stefan and Colin [3]
Category: Black Mirror: Bandersnatch (2018)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Fluff and Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, also THIS IS SOFT. THIS IS SOFT, this one is basically me working through my internalised homophobia, to sum it up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 06:42:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17544680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucidliving/pseuds/lucidliving
Summary: The final wish is love, beyond anything else.A story in which Stefan Butler learns this, reevaluates his life and accepts himself for who he is.





	The Ocean Washed Over Our Graves

**Author's Note:**

> i break the fourth wall in this like.... twice. 
> 
> this fic was the product of me finding a vinyl version of twin fantasy by car seat headrest, buying it on impulse and spending like... a week getting emotionally invested in the album. this isn't a fic based on the album but BOY do i reference it a lot . like an annoying amount. like count the car seat headrest references. anyway, title is from beach life-in-death by car seat headrest.
> 
> enjoy this deep dive into my own internalised homophobia.

Stefan was never an artist.

He just couldn’t get the hang of the painting, the focus, the attention to detail, the words on paper. He found coding much easier.

There were set ways to do code, the correct ways to complete it, something lacking in art. Art was entirely subjective as to the right or wrong ways to do it, everything was art, but what was good art? In code, it’s set in stone, there is a definitive correct way to do it. In secondary school, he excelled in subjects like Maths and Physics, yet fell behind in English, or Music.

Now he was past school, and he had genuine work to do, in coding nonetheless. Working at Tuckersoft was a dream come true in his eyes, a place where he was allowed to do create his passion project and be near his idol. It was the perfect situation that Stefan could have possibly found himself in, and one he’d never dreamed of achieving.

Working with Colin was strange. He knew Colin was some sort of boy wonder, barely a few years older than Stefan but already so much wiser, so much more experienced, so much more. Stefan knew Colin was an artist. He’d seen the small sketches on napkins or notepads, he’d heard him discussing directing and he’d seen him around taking photos of whatever he thought looked nice. Stefan was almost envious.

Stefan wasn’t really jealous of Colin though, not really. Colin wasn’t someone he wanted to be, he realised this after talking to the man for about ten minutes. Colin had his conspiracies and he had his quirks, all his odd moments. Stefan didn’t want that for himself, the madness. He’d handle it terribly, go off the rails, people would get hurt. 

This, however, absolutely didn’t mean Stefan was not completely infatuated with Colin. He was. Everything Colin did, Stefan would observe from a distance, focused on the movements and wondering what it would be like to be close to him. Live with him. Kiss him. Fuck him. Fall asleep next to him. So many things Stefan wondered about.

Colin himself was nice to Stefan, and he always had this knowing look on his face. As if Stefan was naive, as if Stefan had no clue about what he was doing. Colin had complimented his skills before, offhand comments about the codes and concepts, his dedication. The usual stuff. He lingered on Stefan’s desk, and Stefan would feel his heart thud hard against his chest, a timpani drum beating inside of him.

His crush, it was definitely a crush, on Colin was new. He’d felt things before for people, guys in the schools changing rooms, pulling on their PE shorts and tops with the school badge on it. His eyes would always linger, whether he liked it or not. He would pretend, though, that it meant nothing at first. He wanted it to mean nothing, because he knew what would happen if he ended up like that.

He had ended up like that. 

Stefan knew not to talk about it, really. His dad didn’t know. Well, maybe he did, but Stefan had never told him and would prefer if his dad didn’t know. After all, it wasn’t his business whatever Stefan had going on, and it’s not like he would approve of it either. He’d been doing his best to prevent this his entire life, get his son a nice wife and they’d have kids and they’d live down the road.

Stefan thinks sometimes about how much easier it would be. To just get a girlfriend, some girl who does her own thing, maybe she’d be artsy. Maybe she’d be into punk and bleach her hair, she’d be good at helping Stefan and making him feel better and Stefan would never be ashamed to hold her hand in public, never be scared of the consequences of it. 

He realised he just kind of described a female version of Colin, really, so he ditched that thought there.

He wondered what Colin’s type was. He assumed Colin was straight, because he assumed everyone was straight. He wondered what kind of girls Colin went for, glamourous and model esque? Or maybe more like him, full of quirks and conspiracies, but still so incredible in their existence. Or maybe she would be plain. Plain like Stefan was.

He was vaguely aware that Colin was probably only ever going to be his fantasy and nothing else. That was fine, he’d lived with nothing but fantasy to keep him going for his entire life.

Stefan was working hard, on the game. At this point, the team he had been assigned was long gone. He had pushed them away for getting in the way of his vision and told Thakur that he’d work alone, but still show up. He knew that this was mainly because being near Colin was something he wanted, even just in the same room. Feeling Colin’s hand linger on Stefan’s shoulder as he walked past, feeling the back of his neck burn as he could just tell Colin was looking at him.

He was happy to be there.

***

Stefan never came out to his friends. 

Well, he did. But he pretended he was drunk when he said it the next morning, pretended it was a joke. They’d called him a poof and moved on with their lives, occasionally making jokes and calling him a fag or a sissy, the usual. They all assumed that Stefan was just too focused on school to have a girlfriend or the likes, they didn’t notice the lingering glances in the changing rooms.

He knew it wasn’t a good idea to be what he was, that if he could he’d choose an easier path. He couldn’t though, there was no right path this time, either way would lead to misery, would lead to Stefan being dissatisfied with life, with Stefan slowly feeling himself shrivel and his body start to fall to pieces, leaving only dust on the hard wooden floors.

In highschool, his teacher was fired because it was found out that he was a homosexual. It was a better time then, though, even Stefan knew this. As time was going on, the love and revolution the sixties and seventies had brought was now fading away, bringing reality back onto the scene. Stefan wasn’t welcome in the harsh world that was the present, he wasn’t ready to leave his teen years in the seventies.

But Stefan knew that his love risked everything he knew. Even the decision to be around Colin was a calculated risk. He gets to admire without anything happening, gets to be near the person he wants to be with so badly, the one he wants to tear him open so violently, like a starving wolf only to sew him back together with the precision and care of a world renowned surgeon.

He wanted Colin to see him fully, for Colin to experience every single thing that Stefan had to offer, he wanted Colin to see him distraught and angry and continue to sit with Stefan, to stay there and not to tell him it’s ok, but to say he’s not afraid. He’s not going to leave because he cares about Stefan. 

Because that was it. Most of all, he just wanted Colin to care about him.

At the same time, every moment he spent with Colin felt like a thousand knives in his stomach. It was millions of tiny needles pricking his heart repeatedly until it bled out, until it couldn’t take it anymore, it needed to escape from Stefan’s chest, escape the pain and relieve itself. But it couldn’t, because Stefan knew fine well if he let his heart have it’s way he would lose everything.

So he knew he had to step back, and he did. He made sure that every time that he got too close to Colin, that every time he felt particularly weak at the knees, every time he felt as if maybe Colin wouldn’t mind, maybe Colin would reciprocate these feelings. This wasn’t the first time he had an infatuation with a guy, he knew how to deal with it, even if it hurt. He just wished it would hurt less.

***

Stefan remembered very few experiences with his mum. He knew it was because she died when he was so young, but he couldn’t help but question why he lacked anything to even resemble her in his memory. She was faceless, almost, or just the the smiling woman in a photograph, the expression permanently stained on her face, it’s carved that way, unable to move. He preferred the version of her in his memories with her back to him, no need to try to remember in that case. 

He remembered going to the beach with his parents when he was about four, it was a summer's day and there was an ice cream van. He recalled begging his mum to go. He’d stopped asking for things a lot after his mum died. There was only one thing he really wanted anyway, and it wasn’t something he could ever get back, really. Something that only existed in his dreams and his memories.

His dad never took him to the beach after his mum died, he just didn’t. As an adult, Stefan occasionally visited in small attempts to get a small part of his childhood back, the childhood and innocence that had been stolen from him at such a young and vulnerable stage of his life. He wanted it back, and so on summer’s days he found himself wandering about, hoping he’d understand it eventually.

That day, he was visiting the beach. It was fairly empty, being a work day, but still warm and the sky was blue, not as blue as he remembered, but still blue. He was walking down the pathway above the sand, somewhere on the line between beach and the pavement. He had memorised the path by now, the path he took that day. His mum had held his hand while they walked, now he just stuck his hand in his pockets.

That’s when he heard someone call his name. Not just anyone, it was Colin. Colin Ritman. The Colin Ritman. He built up the wall quickly and turned to face him. He smiled a little.

Colin ended up walking with him, asked how the game was going, the usual. Stefan tried to hide how visibly nervous he got around Colin, and when Colin was describing something, he punched Stefan’s arm lightly and Stefan focused on the fading feeling of touch for the next few minutes. He didn’t know why Colin was here, why he ran into him, he didn’t ask.

Colin eventually asked if Stefan wanted to go back to his place, to work on the game or discuss the game or just hang out, and Stefan could feel the hope rising. He wanted this so bad, he wanted to go over to Colin’s flat, he wanted to kiss Colin on his couch, he wanted Colin to fuck him over his desk, he wanted Colin to tear him apart and make Stefan feel it all. But he couldn’t.

“I have to get back home, my dad’ll get worried I’m, well…” He shook his head a bit, “I worried him a lot when I was a teenger, I try not to now. Less hassle.” It was a lie, he could just explain later, whenever he did return. He just didn’t trust himself not to do anything idiotic while over at Colin’s place, not to give himself away as what he truly was.

“I get it.” Colin nodded, Stefan fully believed that. “But,” He smiled, as if he knew something, “I know that you get stressed sometimes and I can help you take your mind off that. You know where to find me if you need a distraction.” And with a wink and smile, Colin was gone, walking off and leaving Stefan to think about what he had said.

It was definitely flirting, there was no denying that. Stefan couldn’t think of any way it wasn’t flirting, it was an invitation to give in, to let go. How did Colin even know, anyway? Stefan liked to think he wasn’t that obvious, but clearly he was. Jesus Christ, what it Colin told someone? Stefan’s life and future would be over.

But it was flirting, and Stefan realised he was blushing crimson by the time he got back to the seaside town train station. 

***

He took Colin up on his offer not long later. He lasted about a week or so.

He found himself on Colin’s doorstep, which was odd since he couldn’t remember Colin ever giving him an address in the first place, he just kind of knew. He knew the paths to take to make it quicker, he knew where the building was and exactly which flat would be Colin’s. He just assumed Colin had told him offhand once.

The flirting had kept going, small comments here and there from Colin, he would say something tiny to Stefan and Stefan would think about it for the rest of the day. It made Stefan want Colin more and more as time went on, he wanted to give up and let it happen, stop holding himself back, stop being so fucking careful. He was so terribly careful when it came to Colin, or his life in general.

When Colin opened the door, his hair was damp and he was dressed as usual and his face was bright and Stefan knew instantly that he was absolutely fucked. He didn’t stand a chance here. 

Colin invited him in, they hung out in his study and Colin convinced Stefan to smoke. It was only a cigarette. Only a cigarette to start with, he knew, but still. It smelled like Colin, the scent surrounded him and it clung to his clothes for dear life as Stefan embraced it. He wanted to go home that night smelling like Colin, the smoke was no longer his father's smell, it was Colin. The Colin Ritman. 

They were just fucking around, it wasn’t help with the game anymore when Colin said, “I’m glad you came. Believe it or not, I’ve been hoping you’d show up.” Stefan almost blushed and Colin laughed shaking his head, “God that was unbearably romantic, c’mere.” He offered Stefan another cigarette, and when Stefan took it Colin lit it.

“What?” Stefan asked, because it was all he could say, really. He didn’t really get it, how Colin was so casual about this, how Colin was so normal when it came to these things. How he could just talk about it openly, being so big in an industry. Didn't he know Stefan could potentially fuck everything up for him? Did he just not care? He was smiling then. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve never been this naive before,” Colin joked, and it didn’t make sense but Stefan felt as if he should have understood it. It was a familiar feeling when he said the joke, “I mean, I’m sick of meaning.” He shook his head, “Come here, really, come here.” Stefan inches closer to Colin, slowly. 

“What’s stopping you this time? Who’s stopping you?” No one. 

Stefan leaned forward and just kissed Colin, and for the first time he felt himself letting go, he felt himself stop caring and fall into Colin, closer and closer and closer and it was this sudden release of all his fears and anxieties that made him realise how good this was, how incredible being like this was. Colin was incredible and Colin was there, he was there! 

Stefan knew he was capable of falling apart at any second, his bones crumbling and his skin falling to a pile on the ground, his limbs detaching as he became nothing more than a concept, no longer a physical being. Colin could too, but Stefan was no longer terrified of the idea that everything would fall, maybe it would, Stefan would have Colin in that situation, though.

He didn’t care anymore, he was sick of having to mean something, to mean anything. For now, he would just kiss Colin and he would spend the night with Colin, and in the end of it all, he would be with Colin.

***

Something Stefan discovered quickly upon staying over at Colin’s, was that Colin wasn’t really used to having people around.

Well, he had Kitty, who had moved out a few months prior, but that wasn’t the same as Stefan at all. 

Stefan slept in his bed, first of all. Stefan would place small kisses on the top of his head before he went to sleep, because Stefan knew that Colin stayed up to ungodly hours just working on his games, and Colin was always startled by it. Even when it became a nightly routine, Colin would almost alway jump slightly when Stefan kissed him goodnight, which was such a cliche.

Stefan cooked for him occasionally, from the very little he knew. He had vague memories of recipes he’d never learned anywhere, but he put them to use. Colin always seemed surprised that Stefan had taken the time to do this, always grateful, but shocked. Stefan felt as if he was constantly defying Colin’s expectations by continuing such a predictable, simple routine.

Maybe Colin just expected him to be a little more reckless.

He was right about Colin being an artist, because around the flat he’d find complex sketches, more than just storyboarding for game ideas but full concepts on their own. He’d find portraits and unexplained creatures, but more importantly was the series of paintings he found detailing two faceless men. 

One was obviously Colin, his hair bleached in spikes, or similar to that of the photos Stefan had seen of him as a kid with darker hair. The other man, Stefan thought it could be him, but it couldn’t have been. The dates on the paintings go back to well before he met Colin. He recognised them though, the scenarios. They seemed familiar, like he’d seen them a long time ago, like clips of a film he watched at a young age, black and white and surreal in his memory.

He asked Colin and he shrugged, “I think he’s you. I think we’ve been together before, in some sort of past life. I mean the stuff I say.”

He later found out that the day Colin met him, Colin had felt like he was finally complete, because this was definitely the person he’d been dreaming of his entire life, the voice matched, and while he remained faceless in Colin’s dreams and art, he was definitely the one. Colin pointed out the small details, the jacket he was wearing when they met, the way his hair had been cut. Small details.

Stefan decided that if everything was decided for him, if fate was real and he truly had no free will, then maybe it was okay if this powerful being controlling him had decided. At least they’d decided for him to be happy. Well, since you’re here I suppose that means you decided you wanted him to be happy after all. He had Colin, he had a home he belonged to, and despite his problems, he was happy.

This was what he had been lacking his entire life, the other half. 

He didn’t necessarily need Colin, not really. He had survived just fine up until now. But he was only surviving, he wasn’t living. He was spending his days working out how to keep things going, with a passion for games, sure, but not for much else. He didn’t want to talk to his dad, he avoided his school friends and never really bothered with Uni. He didn’t have anything but himself, he didn’t have the life the television had promised him.

Now he had something. It was a start. It was his start. He had what he wanted, what he wanted being Colin, and he was now love. Love personified. He blushed pink, and there were stars in his eyes, and when he stripped down bare the words that he and Colin never bothered to utter were sketched onto his skin with Cupid’s arrow. He felt his teenage hands, holding onto his arms, holding him back but he shook them off. He let go.

Stefan had became everything he was scared of, and he adored it. He adored the way Colin kissed him, he loved the way his twin body felt against his own, the way his hands were rough, the way that Colin held him. He loved the way they fucked, he liked the rawness of it all, such a pure emotion expressed in the purest, most natural form.

He liked the moment afterwards, as well. It was this moment of comfort, he was a man, and he loved men. This acknowledgement was what he had feared his entire life, his golden ideas of the future were just that, gold. They were soft, they were easy to manipulate and they were symbolic of the person he’d never become. The person he knew he would never be, the person he was glad now he’d never be.

Colin’s body was soft, really. Stefan never expected this to be soft, he expected it to be rough and dirty, he expected it to be sinful and the very thing that would change his mind. Instead he lay there in bliss, surrounded by Colin’s sheets and his skin, enveloped in the warmth and the comfort. He had never known comfort, not in his small twin sized bed at home, not at his computer desk, not in his kitchen where he’d barely speak to his dad.

He barely visited home, almost officially moving out at this point. Said Colin helped him with work, said that Colin knew what he was doing in the industry and it helped. Bandersnatch had came along nicely with Colin helping him, Colin would help on future projects. It was just work. It was always just work.

He would never let on to his dad that the second bedroom was just for any guests Colin had, that they shared a bed. They shared a mind, too, connected at the back of their heads as if they were born that way. They thought alike, very alike, which Stefan wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He would stare at Colin in awe most days, not at how astonishing his words were, but more about how Colin expressed exactly how Stefan felt.

Colin was his infernal bridegroom, destined to lead him down a path of destruction. Stefan was the foolish virgin. He was a widow, once. A widow to the concepts he lived by before, to his past’s idea of a future. She, in all of her porcelain beauty had passed away, leaving only the true realisation of what Stefan’s future would be. She had fallen and smashed like fine china, shattering and leaving only the rememenants of her former glory.

Colin had promised like a lover in the past, twenty times over, he’d never leave. They lay in embrace, and Stefan listened to Colin’s heartbeat. It was comforting, knowing he was here, he was steady. It didn’t change much, it was consistent. Stefan had never really had consistency in his life. He fell asleep to the dull thud of Colin’s heart.

***

He said I love you to Colin one night while they were in his room. 

Colin had taken a break from work, it was a brief one but it was time he could spend with Stefan. They spent it lounging around the house, talking. They talked a lot these days, after all, they had a lot to talk about. They remembered so little yet so much about who they were, but they remembered different parts.

Colin would tell Stefan about vague memories of a tiny Indian restaurant in Glasgow they’d been to while on business, Stefan had felt ill afterwards having not been able to handle any type of curry, they learned this the hard way, and Colin had taken him back to their hotel. He’d stroked Stefan’s back while he threw up into the toilet, helped Stefan brush his teeth and almost carried him to bed. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the food that did it, because Colin was ill days later.

Stefan remembered a swimming pool, and being a teenager and the shock of bleached blond hair. He remembered working there as a teenager, and Colin sneaking in while he was closing everything up. He remembered Colin kissing him there, kissing in the locker rooms and, Stefan vaguely remembered it all being so new. Everything was strange.

He barely remembered anything, though, from the past. From before. Colin does, though. He does a little more.

Stefan told Colin he loved him while he was lying in bed, it was around one in the morning and Colin was smoking and Stefan came to that realisation. He loved Colin. He was in love with The Colin Ritman. He had fallen madly in love, and there was no going back at this point, he was here and he had embraced the way he felt.

Colin had stopped smoking for a moment, to look at Stefan. He looked at Stefan hard for a good few moments, assessing the situation, “I love you too. I think I’ve loved you for as long as the earth has existed. Our 4.6 billion years of love.” Stefan didn’t ask where Colin got that number from, it seemed distant. He knew Colin was right though, or at least sure of what he thought.

He knew, somewhere deep down, that this wasn't the first time that Stefan had professed his love for Colin. Not the first time he’d fallen deep down this whole, not the first time he had burned in purity for the sake of it. He’d been through this before, with Colin specifically. Because he knew that Colin was the only person he knew to love in this life.

His mum was more of an abstract concept than anything else, she was a person at one point, at some point she had been there, but Stefan was far too young to remember. He didn’t love her, only the idea of a loving parent figure he knew he once had. He grew up blaming his father for not having that figure, he didn’t really love him either. Not deeply, not to his core. He pitied his father for this, but it was just how things worked out, in their own fucked up way.

Colin, however, There was not a single doubt in his mind that he was in love with Colin. It was infatuation gone so much deeper, a wider understanding of this scenario, of the way Colin lived his life. He spoke madness, his tongue spitting out nonsense and Stefan took every word of it and made it poetry in his head. Colin was a masterpiece and Stefan admired every aspect of him, no matter what.

Colin loved him, he knew that. He was loved and he was love itself. He would keep falling until he hit the ground, the ground of soft roses complete with their thorns. Where he’d experience a moment of blinding pain, but once it was over, he would be grateful. He would be grateful he experienced something so incredibly special, experienced Colin Ritman.

They fucked again that night. It was slow, and it was everything Stefan needed. He had kept himself mostly quiet, just a couple gasps here and there. When he got close though, it was an endless stream of “I love you”s, almost as if when it was over Stefan would never be able to say it again, he was terrified that Colin didn’t know.

Colin came inside of him, and afterwards, slept in Stefan’s bones. The quietest hush consumed the flat as they fell asleep, after Stefan had gone for a quick shower. There was nothing but Colin and Stefan, ever consumed by love and affection. They were completely in their own world. The story could end there, but you wouldn’t be satisfied. We have a few things to wrap up, don’t we? I have time to finish a few more points. 

 

***

Stefan and Colin visited the beach on a day off, a couple summers after they started whatever it was they had.

Stefan had stopped going, really, because he was no longer chasing the feeling of being young and naive, of having some sense of stability in his life. He had that now, he was no longer spiralling out of control. He was happy, for the most part. He got stressed like everyone else did, and he had moments where he thought it was over, but he was content.

Colin had proven himself to be the thing that Stefan had longed for throughout all his years, his rock. The person he could depend on to just be there, not to leave like everyone else had. He missed them all so dearly, but they paled in comparison to how bad it would be losing Colin. But he would never lose Colin, they had their infinity together.

He had stopped calling his dad. His dad knew by now, rumours spread quickly in a town and the neighbours had brought it up as small talk, about how Stefan was supposedly sleeping with the incredible Colin Ritman. How they were secretly in love with each other, and that’s why they had become such a successful duo in their career. They knew each other inside out.

It was true but Stefan had never given his father the satisfaction of knowing that, just letting it be confirmed.

He would hold Colin’s hand in public, occasionally. He was holding it while on the beach, showing the world that this was so special to him. He felt the shame still, every once in a while, but never as bad as it used to be. He fought it well, occasional quick pecks on the corner of Colin’s mouth or cheek, telling his mind to fuck off for a bit and let him be happy. Let him experience love. 

That day, they drew in the sand. Colin drew intricate patterns using sticks, careful and precise. He drew their life, in a way. He drew Stefan and he drew himself, and what Stefan saw in the art was love personified. He saw the marks of Cupid on the both of them, barely concealed. It was masterful, it was practiced. 

Stefan drew stick men holding hands, it didn’t matter that it wasn’t as detailed as Colin’s because they both represented the same thing. 

Stefan was never an artist.

He just couldn’t get the hang of the painting, the focus, the attention to detail. But it didn’t matter in the end. Stefan didn’t have to be an artist.

The tide washed away their drawings that night, when they were fast asleep lying next to each other. But it didn’t matter that the art was gone. It didn’t matter that Stefan was never an artist, because his love, out of everything, transcended art. It transcended time and it transcended his existence. 

The love he had been so ashamed of was, in the end, what lived on,

**Author's Note:**

> things i nicked:
> 
> -the infernal bridegroom/foolish virgin part is a reference to the rimbaud poem "the foolish virgin"  
> -a lot of car seat headrest references and bits.  
> -i stole the breaking the fourth wall thing from every mel brooks comedy i've seen.  
> -the 4.6 billion years of love is a vague reference to the japanese title of the movie "big bang love, juvenile a"  
> -the description is a quote from allen ginsberg's "song"
> 
> anyway, thank u for reading! comments are always appreciated and LOVED and i WILL get back to them all as soon as i can. 
> 
> OH also i have a tumblr now like if any of u care its famousprophetsstars. i hope this one is kinda less violent than my usual. listen to twin fantasy. hope u enjoyed <3


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